


Talk dirty to me

by DarkShadeless



Series: Talk dirty to me [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M, SIS-Agent!Yon, Sith flirting, Sith!Theron, Threats of Violence, omfg Theron get a sense of self-preservation, someone is getting grey hair over these two and I'm not sure who, you too Yon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Overseer Shan is a bloody menace. It’s moments like this one that make agent Sar rethink this entire Alliance bantha-shit.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Male Sith Warrior
Series: Talk dirty to me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795516
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	Talk dirty to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OutcastTrip1995](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutcastTrip1995/gifts), [aurrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurrie/gifts).



> This is a role-reversal spin-off for my series 'Overseer Sar'. All you really need to know is that, in this universe, Theron has recently come to Odessen from Korriban, where he used to be an instructor for Sith acolytes. My Sith Warrior has taken his place as a founder of the Alliance and SIS agent extraordinaire ;)  
> They both give those roles their own spin, of course.  
> Overseer Shan's theme song so far is 'Talk dirty to me'. Theron, for the love of everything...
> 
> For OutcastTrip1995 and aurrie, who were so excited about this I couldn't not write it. I hope you like it!

‘ _Don’t react_ ,’ Yon tells himself firmly, ‘ _no matter what. Just don’t react._ ’ Maybe that will be enough to get him off the hook.

As unlikely as that is, he gives it his best shot. Doesn’t speed his steps, doesn’t look, pretends to be completely engrossed in his report queue. Pretends he hasn’t noticed him.

Yeah. As if.

His scores could tell you all about how he doesn’t have a lick of Force-sensitivity but he swears he can feel the Sith before he bloody sees him in his peripheral vision. A low-level prickle of threat sends a shiver down his spine, that tried and true instinct that has saved his hide so many times firing like a faulty wire, and he couldn’t ignore it if he tried. That’s how you get shot.

But that doesn’t mean he has to give the asshole setting him off the satisfaction of a reaction, past the instinctive curl of his lips he can’t quite catch in time to smooth it out without a trace.

It doesn’t matter either way.

They come up on each other, are about to pass and he knows what’s coming before the man goes out of his way to step into his path in a blatant violation of courtesy. “Agent Sar. Fancy seeing you here.”

Looks like the time to play dead has come and gone. “Shan.” Yon aims for neutral and lands squarely on ‘flat’. Letting his eyes sweep the hall for anyone who might have overheard that break of character is reflexive. Like breathing and just as quick, near impossible to notice, unless you’re a _sociopath_ who gets off on upsetting people by staring at them.

A half-second is all it takes but by the time he has confirmed that the hall is empty but for them, that his cover is save, and is it even a cover? How much of him is a cover these days? Who knows.

Yes, by the time he looks up at Shan his smirk has grown _teeth_. The frown Yon has failed to suppress grows more pronounced. He’ll have to work on that. More than he already is. “Can I help you, Overseer?”

Overseer Shan is an attractive man and he’s entirely aware of it. He _oozes_ the kind of smarmy confidence that makes people regardless of gender swoon. All it does for Yon is stoke his urge to punch him in the face.

Not that Shan needs help on that front.

He takes Yon’s perfectly polite (and perfectly frigid, Force he is _slipping_ ) question as a cue to invite himself into his personal space. Yon knows he shouldn’t but like any guy with an _ounce of sense for propriety_ he gives ground instinctively. Two steps later his back hits the wall. Cornered.

Yon drops his datapad in his distraction and it lands on the floor with an echoing sound that does nothing so much as underline how very alone they are.

“I don’t know. Can you?” Shan’s voice sounds like it’s been lifted straight out of a porn-holo, as long as you ignore the rumble of threat under the glossy surface. He crowds Yon shamelessly, leaning against the wall on his forearms and hemming him in.

Force, how Yon regrets his every kriffing life-choice. He had known something was off about this guy from the moment he set foot on Odessen. Too slick, too charming, too… too much flash. Everything about him felt fake.

Lana vouched for him but that hadn’t done fuck all to turn off Yon’s alarm bells, so like the professional spy he is, he had gone snooping. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

Well, joke’s on him because Shan caught on, to _something_ , somehow and he has been on his ass ever since.

Case in point.

He fights the urge to curl his hands into fists, to lock his jaw the way he wants to, _tries_ to stay loose and keep his expression even. He fails. Yon can tell just from the way Shan’s unnaturally bright eyes light even more. They look as if he is burning inside, fire trapped under a veneer of flightiness, and Yon can’t help it. He twitches.

Shan breathes a laugh.

Force _damn it_. What is it about this guy that strips his control like this? He grapples with the urge that has him damned near digging his fingers into the durasteel at his back, tense as a spring. When Shan chuckles it sends a bolt of heat straight to places it _shouldn’t_ , thank you very much.

“Gonna shiv me right here, hm?” Shan drawls the words like they’re the most lewd of innuendos. Which they are, only lewdness should be relative when Yon is _this close_ to stabbing him in the kidney. By all the little gods, he’s on base, he shouldn’t be on this kind of hair trigger. ”What would our commander say?”

‘ _He doesn’t have to know_ ,’ Yon thinks and only realizes he has said it aloud when his own voice fills the space between them, whisper-soft and cold as ice.

Anyone with even a lick of self-preservation would flinch. He knows it, he has watched it often enough, when his mask came to pieces under the pressure of a mission and someone caught a glimpse of what’s underneath, what he hides away under layers and layers of make-believe.

Yon is not a good man. He’s an agent of the SIS and of the Republic, has been since he was old enough to enlist the not so usual way, and his body count is in digits any sane person would get queasy at. He does what needs to be done, always has. And then he puts it all away, he paints the smile back on and he becomes the guy who is fun to be around, who'll lend you an ear and slap you on the back when you need it. He has learned to hang on to that flimsy-thin layer of varnish until it feels real instead of like the lie it is.

Is it? Is it a lie? Vette says it isn’t and she has known him longer than anyone, but Vette is pathologically sunny, irrepressibly sweet and… would she even admit it if she saw what Yon really is? How much blood is on his hands? Some days it’s all he can feel.

The most damning bit of that secret: That cold hard part of him that he hides away? The one that vets every ally, calculates every weakness and could tell you exactly how to kill every person in every given room he walks into? That part of him doesn’t care. Deep down, he doesn’t care. He… doesn’t think he cares. Does he?

He _could_ shiv Shan right here, right now, he has it all laid out in his mind, grab the vibroknife, come in low, don’t give him the time to react, stay in the moment. Stay cool, clinical. Half of a Force-user’s clairvoyant sense of threat detection hinges on aggression, on murderous intent and spikes of excitement.

If you aren’t sure you’ll do it? If it’s just a possibility among many, among flight and fear and an awkward attempt to talk your way out of a confrontation? All the better. Nobody can read things in you, physically or metaphysically, that you yourself don’t know.

Shan wouldn’t be the first Sith Yon kills point blank.

But he has already slipped. He has _telegraphed_ and when the fuck has he kriffed up like that the last time? He _should_ stuff this bastard down a garbage chute and get rid of a headache.

He doesn’t.

Yon doesn’t move an inch and neither does Shan, with his predator’s grin that radiates a feverish sort of intensity that keeps upsetting Yon’s wild scramble for some sense of composure. He needs to get his act together. He needs to shove him off and leg it somewhere private so he can get his head on straight. If anyone sees him like this it'll be weeks before he can drown out the rumors-

“What is going on here?”

 _Rats_.

Shan twitches, smile slipping and for the blink of an eye he looks like Yon feels he _should_ , too-pretty face drawn into a snarl and eyes flashing with barely leashed violence. Yon’s stomach clenches so suddenly it gives him a bout of vertigo that he _wishes_ came from a flutter of nerves.

Yeah, safe to say he has gotten his wires crossed somewhere down the line.

At least his abject lack of _sense_ gives him a chance to compose himself in the roughly five seconds it takes for Shan to get his everything under control. If Yon is just a little lucky his own expression won’t even rate a blip on the radar next to a pissed off Sith.

“Nothing.” Thank all the stars. His voice is perfectly even. Shan’s eyes snap to him and a wealth of emotion plays over his face. He looks strangely helpless and furious at the same time. If Yon didn’t know better he would say he looks _hurt_. Yon lets the polite coolness he reserves for people he doesn’t particularly like wash over himself, pulls it up like a shroud, and doesn’t give an inch more than he already has. “Overseer Shan was just about to leave, Master Timmns.”

“Oh, was I?” Shan bites the words out as if he holds a grudge against them but he is off-balance now. Two can play this game and Yon isn’t about to hesitate with a winning hand.

He slides out from under Shan’s arm faux-casually and picks his datapad up as he goes. In one step he closes with the Jedi Master that has unwittingly come to his rescue and shamelessly uses Timmns’ shadow for shelter. “We are done here.”

Yon turns his attention to the report in his hands, or fakes it at least. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Shan clench his teeth so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t hear them grind. Looks like this round goes to him.

Master Timmns is good enough to take his cue and allow himself to be subtly prodded into walking. There’s a bemused smile on his lips that Yon does not deign to acknowledge. He expects he won’t have to wait long until that becomes a moot point.

Somminick has the prudence to wait until they have put distance between them and the Sith at least but Yon could set a clock to the moment he deems it save to talk. Two turns down Somminick chuckles lightly. “You know, if you _had_ shived him I wouldn’t have tattled. No one can say he didn’t deserve it.”

Oh, ugh. _No_. Yon pulls a face. “You heard that, huh?”

With anyone else he would not nearly be this cavalier. Somminick… well. Somminick isn’t just anyone. A Jedi, maybe, but a Shadow too. They’ve worked quite a few missions together over the years. There’s not much of Yon he hasn’t seen, so the need to hide from him isn’t as desperate, as immediate and cutting. If Somminick finds fault in his character it hasn’t sent him running yet.

It doesn’t now, either. Instead, Somminick laughs, unhurried and warm, as if they're sharing a joke and maybe they are.

The implications take a moment to catch up with Yon. “Wait a second. How long were you watching!” Somminick throws him a fond look that holds entirely too much mischief to belong to a Jedi Master. That _bastard_. “Oh, I'm going to make you regret this.”

"Will you now?" The smile his friend can’t seem to suppress makes warmth spark in Yon’s chest but he waves his datapad at him threateningly regardless.

“Cold showers, Timmns! I can hack anything on this base and I will!”

“I use the communal refreshers.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” Exactly never and it won’t this time either. A few surprises are good for morale. Probably. “Just you wait. I’ll get you!”

If Somminick bumps his shoulder against his, just as he leaves Yon at the intersection to the command center, and mutters low enough that there's no chance he will be overheard, ‘You already have me.’ Well. Who is going to know that it makes him feel lighter?

On bad days Yon might feel as if his game-face is a patchwork of lies but there are people who _see_ him and don’t care.

(Maybe a few more than he is ready to admit to himself.)


End file.
